


Sobering Up

by hongbab



Category: VIXX
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9778793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongbab/pseuds/hongbab
Summary: The last things he remembers are the tears trickling down his hot cheeks, and the thought that he was once the man Jaehwan’s heart belonged to, but he dropped and shattered it.





	1. I

_Minden híd ledől és zuhan a mélybe a múlt,_  
_Úszni érte nincs erőm és már te sem gondolod úgy,_  
_Ahogyan azt álmodtuk, belőled kijózanodni fáj,_  
_Késő már, késő már, késő már_

 _[All the bridges are breaking down and the past is falling into the deep,_  
_I have no strength to keep swimming, and you no longer think about it the way_  
_We used to dream of it, it hurts to sober up from you,_  
_It’s too late, it’s too late, it’s too late]_

 

 

 

The place is full, and people keep asking him if they can sit down by his table—Wonshik only barks a no. He should feel ashamed, probably, about sitting in a pub alone, staring in the direction of a certain group of people, but if he had some inhibitions an hour or so ago, he’s lost them by now.

A waitress shows up to gather the shot glasses on the table onto a tray, and Wonshik tells her to bring four more.

“Four?” she asks, her eyes going wide.

“And a beer,” Wonshik adds, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

His vision is getting too fuzzy, and he has to try hard to focus on the brown haired boy with a beautiful smile, his full lips stretching thin and his eyes turning into crescents as he clutches the arm of the morose-looking man beside him, resting his head on the guy’s shoulder, blinking happily at whoever is sitting opposite him.

Wonshik receives his beverages, downing one of the vodkas, rinsing with the beer. He drinks up everything as fast as he can, resuming his suspicious behaviour. Jaehwan looks the happiest he’s ever done, telling jokes and laughing at what his friends say, all his little habits still the same. He’s immersed in the story he’s recounting, his eyebrows twitching when there’s a particularly exciting part, and gesturing sharply so he can make his tale more vivid. Wonshik wishes he could hold his pretty hands and kiss his knuckles, drown himself in Jaehwan’s voice and his grins, and let his perfume intoxicate him. He wishes he could be the man who now interrupts the story by reaching under Jaehwan’s chin to turn his head towards himself, brushing the stray locks of his fringe back where the whole thing is swept to the side above his forehead, and he wishes he could be the reason why Jaehwan’s eyes glint gratefully.

The last things he remembers are the tears trickling down his hot cheeks, and the thought that he was once the man Jaehwan’s heart belonged to, but he dropped and shattered it.


	2. II

He has a throbbing headache and probably a hole in his stomach, judging from how it feels; his tongue is sticking to the roof of his mouth. He opens his eyes—the room taking a turn—and notices the small figure next to him, narrow shoulder rising and falling under the duvet, chocolate coloured hair messy on the back of a head. Wonshik groans, and pushes himself up from the bed, jostling Hakyeon who now rolls onto his back, whining and taking a deep breath, rubbing his eyes as he watches Wonshik trying to balance himself by the window sill, a few belches coming up from his throat, all of them tasting like diluent.

“Gross,” Hakyeon rasps out, sitting up, and picks up a bottle of water from beside the bed, reaching it out to Wonshik.

Wonshik takes some gulps: enough to moisten his dry mouth, but too much for it to leave his nausea alone.

“Hungry?” Hakyeon asks when Wonshik winds an arm around his naked stomach.

“Hungover,” he replies in a hoarse, nasal voice.

“You have leftover pizza in the fridge,” Hakyeon says, stretching his arms. He’s wearing one of Wonshik’s T-shirts, the collar hanging low, making his collarbones peek. “Want me to heat it up for you?”

“Yeah. I’ll go take a shower.”

“Good idea.”

Wonshik shuffles into the bathroom, getting rid of his briefs—the only clothing item he’s wearing. He stands under the almost too cold spray of water with his forehead pressed against the cool tiles, his cheeks burning up with whatever after-effects alcohol has. He makes sure to scrub at his body as thoroughly as his numb and tingling fingers let him, trying not to think of what happened last night, the beautiful smile and the shiny eyes, the cute ears and the sexy hair, the love of his life huddling up with someone who looks like they’re ready to murder anybody who touches what they think is theirs.

His attempts at preventing himself from thinking about those are futile, but he musters up his will not to start crying, feeling somewhat better in the physical sense after his shower, his saliva production going back to almost normal after brushing his teeth.

Hakyeon is humming along to the radio in the kitchen as Wonshik walks back into his bedroom with a towel on his hips. He gets dressed, padding out to the dining table where Hakyeon is waiting for him with his leftover re-heated pizza, a huge glass of water and a steaming cup of coffee. He sits on the chair, and Hakyeon pulls himself up on the kitchen counter, Wonshik’s sweatpants too huge on his legs as they dangle against the cupboard.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Wonshik mumbles between bites. “I know I’m pathetic.”

“Yes, you are,” Hakyeon says. “And now you’re creepy, too. Stalking someone is just—”

“I wasn’t stalking him,” Wonshik corrects him. “I saw him go inside and decided to have a few drinks.”

“By yourself.”

“By myself,” Wonshik looks up at Hakyeon’s judging expression. “What’s so wrong about that?”

Hakyeon tsks, shaking his head. “I found you sobbing on the table after you’d sent me that unintelligible text.”

“What unintelligible text?” Wonshik asks just because he can, more interested in his pizza than what happened last night.

“Told me to pick you up from that pub because you were dying or something,” Hakyeon answers. “That was what I could get out of it. You were a mess; a broken shot glass by your hand and your face full of tears and snot… I paid your bill—you owe me 36 bucks—and walked you out of the place, and you were just rambling about how much you loved and missed Jaehwan and how I had no idea how it felt because I’d never been in love and I’d never kissed him so I couldn’t possibly know how it felt to love such an  _amazing_  man and—”

“Fine, I don’t need to hear it all,” Wonshik grumbles.

“I want you to hear it all,” Hakyeon says. “So, you told me you couldn’t do this anymore and then puked all over the pavement, and I had to drag your drunk ass away from the pub so they wouldn’t beat the shit out of you for messing up the place. You’d been literally asleep by the time I managed to bring you up here, and let me tell you how disgusting it was to take the jeans you hurled on off you. And on top of that, you thought I was Jaehwan and kept pressing up against me in bed. You’re crazy, Wonshik.”

“I’ll be better,” Wonshik mumbles, taking the empty plate to the sink.

Hakyeon’s eyes bore into him, and Wonshik deliberately avoids them, going back for his cup of coffee.

“Maybe you should try—” Hakyeon starts, but Wonshik cuts him off with a serious look.

“I don’t date without feelings,” he says.

“How do you expect yourself to have feelings for someone else when you won’t even give yourself a chance?” Hakyeon asks quietly, his legs no longer swinging back and forth. “It’s been  _months_ since he broke up with you, Wonshik.”

Wonshik feels his anger spike up, his cheeks flushing with it as he leans into Hakyeon’s face. “Months, years or entire lifetimes—I don’t care. Jaehwan is my everything and I want him back.”

“Well, he apparently doesn’t want you back,” Hakyeon hisses, his eyes flashing.

“What do you even know about any of this?” Wonshik asks, knitting his brows. “You’ve never been in love.”

Hakyeon snorts and jumps off the counter, walking towards the bedroom. “You know nothing about me, Kim Wonshik, and it’s sad, because I’m the only one you have left.”

Wonshik would yell at him, but his breath catches in his throat.

He’s right. Hakyeon is the only one he has left.


	3. III

It’s a busy day at Ikea, and Wonshik has no idea what people are thinking, flooding the place like it’s the end of the world, really. The situation is almost as bad as two weeks before Christmas—and that’s honestly unbearable.

He’s screwing in a new bulb into one of the lamps when he gets called over to the bedroom area. He sighs, finishes his work and gets going.

A child jumped on a nightstand, his colleague tells him, so Wonshik takes out his tools to reassemble the piece of furniture.

“Excuse me?” someone asks from behind his back.

“Can I help?” Wonshik groans, trying to turn a screw back into place.

“We’d actually like—” another voice starts, but as soon as Wonshik spins around to look at its owner, the sentence gets cut off.

Jaehwan is staring at him with his eyes open wide, completely frozen as he stands by the side of the morose guy from the other day, their hands clasped tightly together. Wonshik feels his stomach drop, the acid coming up in his throat, his eyes stinging. Jaehwan is being yanked backwards slightly, the other man glaring at Wonshik like he wants to disembowel him on the spot, half hiding Jaehwan behind his back like he’s trying to protect him from a physical threat.

Wonshik stands up with wobbly legs, swallowing hard.

“Wonshik-ah,” Jaehwan squeaks, and the man beside him sucks in a sharp breath.

“My colleague will help you right away,” Wonshik says quickly, his voice unusually high-pitched.

He stays for one more second—just to admire Jaehwan, to burn his image into his brain before he practically runs away, through the sections, the pain behind his eyes growing bigger and bigger until he finds himself heaving in the parking lot. There are people everywhere and it’s suffocating, he needs to get away as fast as possible, even if he has to go in his uniform and leave his own clothes in the staff room.

The bus ride is too long for his nerves; he has to press his forehead to the window pane and listen to the engine whirring to try to calm down, but the shaking of the vehicle is making him sick to his stomach.

His knuckles are about to splinter from how hard he’s knocking on the wooden door, the grumbling from the other side affecting him in absolutely no way.

Hakyeon is frowning angrily, his puffy eyes adding to the unwelcoming sight.

“What’s with you?” he asks.

Wonshik pushes him inside, slamming the door after him, and, without answering, crashes his lips with Hakyeon’s. Hakyeon is making all kinds of surprised noises, but as Wonshik wraps his arms around his middle and hoists him up, pressing him against the wall, Hakyeon’s hands find their way into his hair, pulling unsurely. His legs hold Wonshik tighter by the second, a quiet little mewl escaping him when he turns his head to the other side, and Wonshik feels both of them growing hard in their trousers.

He bites down on Hakyeon’s neck, making Hakyeon throw his head back so hard it thuds against the wall, his nails digging into Wonshik’s scalp almost painfully. He places Hakyeon back on the floor, practically ripping off his T-shirt and then his own, grabbing Hakyeon by the back of his neck to kiss him again before he takes his hand and drags him into his own bedroom. He spreads Hakyeon out on the bed, mouthing on his jaw, moving down towards his collarbone, nibbling on every patch of his skin while Hakyeon runs his fingers through his hair over and over again, panting loudly above him, moaning when Wonshik grinds down on his erection. He’s groping around, and Wonshik stands up, taking off his trousers and briefs while Hakyeon takes a bottle of lube out of his nightstand’s drawer. Wonshik pulls off Hakyeon’s sweatpants and underwear as well, squeezing lube on his fingers, and climbing back over Hakyeon’s body to kiss him and swallow his moans.

They’re both burning up by the time the hurried, clumsy foreplay is over; Wonshik licks Hakyeon’s sweat off his neck as he thrusts in and pulls out, Hakyeon’s heels digging into the small of his back and his nails tearing at his skin. He keeps his eyes shut tight, trying to focus on the sensation, on the taste of salt and the heat around him, but Hakyeon is too loud, and that distracts him. Hakyeon bites down on his shoulder, giving a huge kick to Wonshik’s upcoming orgasm, and Wonshik bends down to kiss him as hungrily as he can, their teeth clashing and Hakyeon sucking on his tongue, nibbling on his lower lip.

It reminds him of Jaehwan—his lips are lusher than Hakyeon’s, but he likes to bite just as much, likes to pull the other in with his legs, muscular calves tensing on bony hips, arching his back as he bunches the sheets in his fists.

Wonshik noses along the smooth skin, licking at the line of the sternum, whispering, “Jaehwan…”

There’s a sharp moan coming from above his head, and he moves up, sucking a hickey on the throat, grazing the bump of the Adam’s apple with his teeth.

“Jaehwan…”

“Wonshik what—”

Lips on lips, tongues entangling, a grunt in his mouth and another coming from deep inside his belly as he snaps his hips forward even faster, the hand jerking the cock trapped under his stomach tickling him. He drinks up all the cries that break past the lips against his, the heat tightening around him making him come with the mantra, “Jaehwan, Jaehwan, Jaehwan.”

The lips disappear, and then there are hands on his chest, shoving him away. Wonshik opens his eyes, barely sitting on the bed, his mind hazy and his cock still twitching with his orgasm. Hakyeon is dishevelled in an attractive way: his lips are red like blood and his hateful eyes are glinting with fever, entire body shaking.

“What the fuck, Wonshik,” he says, voice wavering.

“What,” Wonshik barks back, suddenly lost in what really is going on.

“You fucking called me Jaehwan!” Hakyeon snaps, rolling off the bed to put on his clothes.

Wonshik stares at him, the penny dropping too slowly. “We… we fucked.”

“Congratulations on your intelligence, asshole!” Hakyeon yells, standing next to the bed and looking intimidating, no matter how small he actually is. “I can’t believe you kept fucking thinking of Jaehwan!”

“I wasn’t—” Wonshik swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t mean to fuck  _me_  or you didn’t mean to  _think of him_  while fucking me?”

“Neither,” Wonshik says, and reaches out for his briefs.

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” Hakyeon mumbles, and dashes out of the room.

Wonshik gets dressed, only to sit back down on the mattress and bury his face into his palms. What the hell did he even think coming to Hakyeon? What the hell did he think having sex with Hakyeon when all he felt was emptiness and pain over seeing Jaehwan with that guy? Why did he do any of this and most importantly— most importantly how could he mess it up so much with the only person who still had a little bit of respect for him?

Hakyeon is sitting on the window sill in the kitchen, tears running down his cheeks as he takes a drag of his cigarette, staring outside, the street lamps’ light sparkling on his face. He hugs his pulled-up legs with his free arm, and he looks so tiny it breaks Wonshik’s heart. If he still has one, that is.

“Hakyeon—”

“Get out of here,” Hakyeon replies in a tired voice.

“I’m so sorry, Hakyeon,” Wonshik says anyway, standing idly in the living room.

“I just don’t understand,” Hakyeon says, and bites his lower lip hard, a new tear trickling down his face. “I don’t understand how you could do this to me and— how I could be so stupid as to believe that you were here— that you came here for me, you know? Just me. Not because you were frustrated over Jaehwan or whatever.”

“I came because I needed you,” Wonshik replies, walking closer, but Hakyeon’s one glance makes him stop in the middle of the kitchen.

“And this is why it’s all so wrong.” Hakyeon wipes at his face with the back of his hand, taking a drag slowly as if trying to gain time to think, exhaling quickly when he seemingly decides what to say. He looks at Wonshik, fierce and fiery, and God, he’s falling apart behind those beautiful, strong eyes. “You always just selfishly take whatever kind of consolation you need from me, and leave me here drained and exhausted. You’re like a fucking vampire; you suck out every positive thing in me so you can function properly, but you don’t give a shit about how I feel. You’re bitter over Jaehwan? Well, guess what, I’m bitter over  _you_.” Wonshik’s breath hitches, his heart pounding deeper, almost choking him. Hakyeon flicks the ash off his cigarette, watching it fly away with the wind. He’s trying to smile, but it’s so sad it turns into a frown almost immediately. “Every single time you called me to take you home,” he continues, “to go over and help you—every single time I held you through the crying, it tore another piece out of me, but it also made me hopeful. I thought, ‘he’s getting better, he’ll be fine and I finally might have a chance’. But then you come here and use me like a fucking faceless picture you can get yourself off on because you can imagine whoever’s face there. You are really, really fucking cruel, Wonshik.”

Hakyeon throws the butt of his cigarette out, and jumps off the window sill, shuffling to the front door. He pushes down the handle and opens the door wide.

“I love you, Hakyeon,” Wonshik tries to say as loudly as he can, but it’s only a whisper.

“If this is how you behave when you love someone, I’m glad you don’t want anything from me.”

Hakyeon’s stare is heavy and hard, and Wonshik lowers his head as he passes him, the door slamming after he steps outside. He hears Hakyeon’s hiccup, and the sound of him sliding down against the door, sobbing there.

Wonshik came here to fix his own heart, but he broke another one: a big, healthy, kind one that he can’t mend anymore. The heart that beat for him after Jaehwan crushed his.


	4. IV

The nausea is almost unbearable as he lies on his couch, the TV turned on to serve as background noise while he stares up at the ceiling. He wishes he could be with Hakyeon, lazing together like they always did, because being miserable in Hakyeon’s lap is much better than being miserable alone.

Hakyeon hasn’t answered any of his numerous apologizing texts, though, and ignored all of his calls. Wonshik itches to see him, to know he’s not ruining himself because of Wonshik—he’s just not worth being depressed over.

He almost falls off the couch when his phone pings with a new message. He swipes to the right without looking at the sender’s name, staring unbelievingly at the text.

**hi, Wonshik-ah :-)**

He glances up, Lee Jaehwan’s name vibrating in front of his eyes. If this is real, if this isn’t a dream—

**it was good seeing you the other day. how are you?**

Wonshik sits up, his heart threatening to break out of his ribcage. He has no idea how to handle the situation, how to answer, how to not freak out when Jaehwan is writing to him. His Jaehwan. His everything.

 **am I not supposed to be blocked on your end?**  – is what he sends back, but he’s not sure why. His fingers are working on their own.

**I unblocked you. is it a problem?**

**no, of course not. I’m glad you unblocked me.**

**good, then :-) I was thinking if you might want to meet me? someday you’d like? we could talk a little.**

Wonshik forgets how to breathe. Unblocking him after all the begging texts he’d sent he was blocked for is one thing, but Jaehwan wanting to meet him is just… surreal.

**what game are you playing, Jaehwan? :D**

And that emoticon is so fake, so sarcastic Wonshik is sure Jaehwan is aware of the true meaning of it, which is a forced smile, because Wonshik doesn’t want him to think he believes Jaehwan is doing this for real. He can’t be. That would be like a fairy tale.

**I’m not playing. I’m just. you know. it’s been so long.**

**alright. I’d like to meet you.**

**yeah? are you free today?**

It’s like a first date—feels like one anyway—as Wonshik walks towards the park, all limbs feeling like jelly, and he’s suddenly very much aware of his fashion sense. He did spend a considerable time in front of his wardrobe, trying to pick out something Jaehwan liked to see him wearing: a plain white T-shirt with ripped black jeans, his favourite black leather jacket on top—the combination that earned him so many admiring looks from those big, shiny eyes.

Jaehwan is sitting on a bench, pulling himself together like he’s cold despite the unusually warm mid-February weather. The sun is illuminating his best features, making him radiate, and Wonshik aches to touch his jaw and tip his chin up so he can see his pretty irises from up close.

“How long have you been here?” Wonshik asks, sitting down on the bench tentatively, scooting farther away from Jaehwan than he’d like to.

“Ten minutes,” Jaehwan smiles, making Wonshik’s heart flutter. “I’m glad you came.”

“Of course I— of course I came. Jaehwan.” Wonshik looks down at his trembling fingers, cracking his knuckles, sliding one icy palm against the other. “Where’s your… bodyguard of a boyfriend?”

“I don’t know,” Wonshik sees Jaehwan shrug from the corner of his eye. “Probably at home. We’re taking a break.”

Wonshik’s heart drops to his stomach, and he blinks up at Jaehwan. Jaehwan is examining the ground under his feet, kicking a rock back and forth, lower lip jutting out in a pout. He’s not going to cry—Jaehwan has this weird habit of pouting in order to prevent the tears from coming. Wonshik wishes he didn’t know how Jaehwan looks when he cries, but that evening when they separated has stayed a vivid memory in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Wonshik says, because that’s what custom deems right.

Jaehwan looks at him, smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners—he knows Wonshik isn’t sorry.

“Yeah,” he says, “I guess we’re not as good together as we thought.”

“You even came to the store, though,” Wonshik comments. “It sort of suggested you guys wanted to move in together.”

“I just helped him get a new nightstand,” Jaehwan replies. “It was nothing like that, but, let’s not talk about him, please. How have you been, Wonshik-ah?”

Wonshik laughs bitterly, glancing up at the bald trees. “I’ve been feeling like shit,” he says. “But you must be aware. It’s not like I didn’t keep you updated until I could.” Jaehwan opens his mouth, but then closes it again. Wonshik sees him watching curiously, waiting for whatever more Wonshik has to say. “Hakyeon tried to keep me intact.” The image of Hakyeon’s broken sight feels like a punch in the stomach, and Wonshik suddenly wants to go home and pray that Hakyeon will come back to him. “I’ve lost him, though. I don’t think he wants to see me anymore.”

“Did you guys have a fight?” Jaehwan inquires in a soft tone, melodic and soothing in all the right places. He looks so young with that empathic expression on his face.

“Mm,” Wonshik murmurs. “I messed him up. I’m very good at messing people up.”

There’s silence for a few moments, but then Jaehwan says, “I’m glad you messed me up back then.” Wonshik arches an eyebrow at him, curious and puzzled. “I mean, I liked to be with you. You know, until things got… difficult.”

“You mean until I got unbearable,” Wonshik smiles, and Jaehwan blinks up at him, neither confirming nor denying the statement.

They stare into each other’s eyes a moment longer than it would be okay, and then Jaehwan’s bony fingers are fiddling with Wonshik’s, full lips perfectly gliding against his. He licks at the seam of Wonshik’s mouth, his tongue moving fluidly, the warmth and tempo nothing like Hakyeon’s the other day. Jaehwan nips at his lower lip carefully, but he’s not as fervent as Hakyeon; the way he kisses is nowhere near as angular as how Hakyeon does, and it— it makes Wonshik feel empty.

When Wonshik pulls back, Jaehwan is looking at him with his big, shiny eyes, pretty pink blush decorating the bridge of his nose, reminding Wonshik of the flush in Hakyeon’s cheeks, the fire in his eyes when he looked at Wonshik so furiously. The thought of Hakyeon makes his heart pick up speed, and he wants to go to him as fast as he can, hold him in his arms and never let him go. All the while the love of his life— the person he thought was the love of his life is looking up at him with the ghost of that old affection Wonshik couldn’t let go of… until now.

“Was that… too much?” Jaehwan asks, and wants to pull his hands back, but Wonshik keeps them in place, squeezing lightly.

“It was everything I needed,” he says, breathless, his legs aching to stand up and run all the way to Hakyeon’s place. He holds Jaehwan’s hands to his chest, a true, happy smile forming on his lips after all the months of not being able to crack one. “Jaehwan-ah, you helped me get through it. I… I can’t be with you, but— it’s okay. We didn’t work.”

Jaehwan yanks his hands out of Wonshik’s hold now, looking deeply offended. “Why are you grinning when you’re rejecting me?”

“It’s because,” Wonshik tucks a stray lock of hair behind Jaehwan’s cute, pointy ear, “it’s because I just realized that we don’t have to torture each other. We don’t belong together. Maybe— maybe you belong to that guy—”

“ _Taekwoon_ ,” Jaehwan supplies, the hurt in his voice at Wonshik just calling him ‘guy’ clearly audible.

“Taekwoon. I saw you two and you looked… happy, Jaehwan, you looked very happy to be with him, much happier than when you were with me, and I saw him protect you from me, and, I mean, it felt rude, because I didn’t want to hurt you, but… What if he’s the one for you?”

“You’re being too sappy,” Jaehwan mumbles, his blush deepening.

“Yeah,” Wonshik laughs, “I am, and I’m probably crazy, too.”

“Yes,” Jaehwan replies, smiling tentatively.

“But I love Hakyeon. I need to be with him, I just. I know I need to. Do you understand me?”

Jaehwan examines Wonshik’s face in silence, nodding with his eyes closed. He looks down at the ground. “I’ve always been jealous of your chemistry,” he says. “You move so naturally around each other. Kinda like you guys are the same person in two bodies. It’s pretty creepy.”

“Yeah, I’m just, I feel very comfortable around him. I mean, I felt comfortable around you, too, don’t get me wrong!” Jaehwan snorts, and Wonshik ducks his head, self-conscious. “Hakyeon is different.”

“I get it, I get it,” Jaehwan says, waving his hand dismissively. “You broke my heart for a second time, but if it means you get to be with the one who’s best for you, I’m willing to put up with it.”

“I’m sorry, Jaehwan-ah,” Wonshik says, and hugs Jaehwan tightly, happier than ever from the realization that Hakyeon is the one who means the world to him. “I hope you and your boyfriend can solve your problems. If not,” he draws back, squeezing Jaehwan’s shoulders, “just send me a text and I’ll break every single bone in his body.”

Jaehwan laughs, but furrows his brow. “Please, don’t hurt him.”

“I won’t, unless you tell me so, I swear.” Wonshik presses a kiss to Jaehwan’s forehead. “I need to go now. Thank you for— well, everything.”

“You sappy idiot,” is all Jaehwan says, before Wonshik waves a hand at him, grinning from ear to ear, and jogs out of the park. 


	5. V

He presses the lift’s button, but it comes too slowly, so he takes the stairs, two steps at once. He feels like his lungs are trying to escape his chest through his throat by the time he arrives at Hakyeon’s door on the 5th floor. He knocks frantically, ringing the bell a few times.

“Who’s that?” Hakyeon’s voice comes from inside.

“It’s me, Wonshik,” Wonshik heaves. “I need to talk to you.”

“Go away. I don’t want to see you.”

“It’s very important, Hakyeon!” Wonshik insists, knocking again as if Hakyeon didn’t know he’s there.

“Stop destroying my door and  _go away_.”

“Fine.” Wonshik huffs. “Fine, you don’t need to  _see_ me for this.”

Wonshik flops down on the dirty floor, the tiles cold against his butt. He faces the door, staring at it and imagining Hakyeon standing idly on the other side. “I met Jaehwan just now,” Wonshik says.

“Am I supposed to applaud you?” Hakyeon snaps from inside. There’s a thud, and then Hakyeon asks, almost inaudible, “Are you okay, though?”

Wonshik grins at the wood.

“I’m great,” he replies. “We talked and—”  _kissed, and all I could think about was you_. He figures Hakyeon wouldn’t want to know that Jaehwan and he got a little too intimate, so he decides not to tell him about that detail. “We talked and I realized that I was in love with you all along.”

Wonshik waits for Hakyeon to react, but there’s silence on the other side. He swallows thickly, the smile melting off his face. “Hakyeon?”

“I’m listening,” Hakyeon grumbles, and it’s the type of grumble he does when he’s trying to keep his grumpy act up. “Go on.”

“Uh, yeah,” Wonshik scratches the back of his head. “I think I might have been obsessed with the… I don’t know, feeling? Of unrequited love? And because I thought of you as a friend, I projected my feelings on Jaehwan. Does that make sense?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Thought so,” Wonshik mutters. “But… but I know now. That it was you all along. I love you, Hakyeon.”

“Yeah, well.” Hakyeon clears his throat. “You called me  _Jaehwan_.”

“Because I’m a sappy shit—”

“You are.”

“—and I romanticised the feeling of being miserable because of Jaehwan,” Wonshik finishes. “I want you so much, you have no idea, Hakyeon. God, I’m going crazy right now. I’m so close to scratching a hole into your door like a fucking dog.”

There’s some rattling coming from the other side, and the door opens, revealing Hakyeon who’s sitting with his legs crossed, reaching up for the handle. He’s glaring at Wonshik as ferociously as he can under his messy chocolate brown fringe, the grimace on his small face making him look adorable.

“Don’t ruin my door,” he says, and continues sulking.

“All right,” Wonshik laughs. “Can I come in?”

“No,” Hakyeon replies. He suddenly drops the cute act, and he seems tired as he glances down at his crossed legs. “Listen, this is all… well, it sounds weird.” He blinks back up at Wonshik. “It’s a lot to process, and I’m not sure if I dare to believe you. I need some time.”

“Okay,” Wonshik says immediately. “I’ll give you as much time as you want.”

“Even a year?” Hakyeon asks.

Wonshik’s eyelids flutter, and there’s a lump in his throat.

“I’d give you all the time I have left,” he replies in the end, but his voice is shaking.

“Are you sure, Wonshik?” Hakyeon’s voice is soft under the sadness that seeps out of it. “You said you’d fight for Jaehwan for ‘entire lifetimes’, yet you’re here confessing to me now. How could I believe you won’t do it again, promising you’ll wait for me and running to Jaehwan when I take too much time?”

“I don’t want to convince you, I can’t convince you,” Wonshik says. “All I’m asking for is, trust me, please. I won’t fuck it up this time. You’re the last love of my life, Hakyeon. I promise.”

Hakyeon swallows, and stands up from the floor, staring down at Wonshik for a few moments, before he closes the door.

“This is awkward,” he hears Hakyeon say from inside, and he chuckles at it, the pressure in his chest becoming less painful.


	6. VI

He’s restless in the evening, walking up and down in his flat with no particular destination, changing channels on the TV every two minutes. Jaehwan texted him if he talked to Hakyeon, and he told him about what happened in the afternoon, Jaehwan reassuring him that Hakyeon would come to him sooner than he thinks. He and Taekwoon made peace as well, at least, they’re talking again, and though it made Wonshik feel a little weird, he also felt somewhat happy about Jaehwan’s life going well.

He’s doing his nightly crunches when the doorbell rings. He jerks so wildly at the sound he pulls a muscle, whimpering as he stands up, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his equally damp arm.

Hakyeon stands on his porch with his head lowered, mouth hidden behind a fluffy white scarf above his coat. He has a bag of suspicious boxes in his hands.

“Hakyeon,” Wonshik breathes, stepping away from the doorway. “Come in.”

Hakyeon pulls his shoulders higher up, snuggling deeper into his scarf. Wonshik really wants to pick him up and hold him forever, but he figures he needs to wait for Hakyeon to take the first steps now.

“I brought Chinese,” Hakyeon says, swinging the plastic bag forward, his voice muffled in the knit material.

“Uh, thank you?” Wonshik replies cleverly. “Are we going to eat it on the corridor?”

Hakyeon looks up, glaring a little, like he was just about to come in, but Wonshik is rushing him.

Hakyeon steps in, getting rid of his boots and coat, surprised when Wonshik takes the latter from him and hangs it on the rack. He walks into the kitchen, placing the food on the table, and opening the boxes, putting one in front of himself and the other on the other end. He sits down, Wonshik following suit, accepting the chopsticks Hakyeon is handing over to him. The honey chicken Hakyeon got for him is his favourite, and it tastes like heaven as he watches Hakyeon stuff his mouth with his orange chicken. He stifles a smile at how Hakyeon is avoiding his eyes, conspicuously interested in his food.

“So,” Wonshik asks around a piece of meat, making Hakyeon glance up at him before returning to his box, “does this” he gestures around the table with his chopsticks “mean you’re done thinking?”

“Yes,” Hakyeon replies.

“Mm. Which means we’re practically on a date now, right?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Hakyeon grumbles, and reaches over the table to dig a piece of chicken out of Wonshik’s paper box, shoving it into his own mouth, making a face at the taste.

Wonshik laughs, standing up, and Hakyeon follows him with his gaze, his eyebrows arched curiously. Wonshik stands above him, waiting for Hakyeon to swallow the food, and then cups his cheeks. “I love you so much, Hakyeon,” he says, smiling. “And I’m so sorry for expecting you to put up with all my shit for so long. I wish I could make it up to you. Everything.”

“I hope you know how big of an idiot you are,” Hakyeon says, his eyes ever so stubborn.

“I do. I’m the biggest idiot on this planet.”

“In the galaxy,” Hakyeon corrects him.

“In the galaxy,” Wonshik replies.

He bends down, capturing Hakyeon’s lips with his. It’s slower than the last time, a lot more careful, but Hakyeon’s soft lips are making his entire body tingle, warmth spreading in his chest, his heart racing. The honey and the orange are mixing sweetly, but Wonshik is sure that’s not what makes him hungry for more of Hakyeon’s kisses. One of his hands slides back to hold Hakyeon by the nape of his neck, fingers drawing circles in the silky hair there as Hakyeon places a hand on his neck, turning his head to the other side.

After what feels like hours, they separate, Wonshik resting his forehead against Hakyeon’s, pecking his lips lightly a few times, scratching the skin on his nape gently.

“I wish I’d realized how much you meant to me earlier,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Hakyeon’s mouth again. “I never want to let you go, Hakyeon.”

“I’d be glad though,” Hakyeon says, and Wonshik pulls back, confused. “You smell and taste like honey. You know how much I hate it.”

Wonshik lets out the breath he had no idea he was holding, cracking up as he presses back against Hakyeon, kissing him again.

“Get used to it,  _honey_ ,” he whispers into his mouth, and Hakyeon grunts disapprovingly, tugging him down into his lap, shutting him up with his lips, small hands holding Wonshik’s hips firmly as Wonshik hugs him as close as he can.

Who knew he needed to get drunk on a broken love to find his true drug?

One thing is for sure: he never wants to sober up from Hakyeon.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from and inspired by the Hungarian song [Késő már](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYtqTMicTeE) [It's too late] by Wellhello.
> 
>  
> 
> feel free to talk to me about any of my stories or just vixx in general on [tumblr](http://hongbab.tumblr.com/), [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/hongbab) or [aff](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/1061753) ♡ please support me on [ko-fi.com](https://ko-fi.com/hongbab) if you can ♡


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